138 THE LIFE OF RICHARD JEFFERIES 



couple, now the other ; we pant, and can scarcely speak 

 with running, but the wild excitement of the hour and 

 the sweet pure air of the Downs supply fresh strength. 

 The little lad brings the mare anywhere : through the 

 furze, among the flint-pits, jolting over the ruts, she rattles 

 along with sure alacrity. There are five hares in the sack 

 under the straw when at last we get up and ' slowly drive 

 down to the highway, reaching it some two miles from 

 where we left it. Dickon sends the dogs home by the 

 boy on foot ; we drive round and return to the village 

 by a different route, entering it from the opposite direc- 

 tion. . . .'* 



When such vitality begins to be really abundant in 

 literature, the moralists may begin to weed out. Jefferies 

 asks no questions in ' The Amateur Poacher.' Except 

 in his power to observe and portray, he seems the plainest 

 of countr5/men, with his opinion that ' a strong man 

 must drink now and then.' 



His observation is in most cases seconded by effective 

 expression ; he conveys a fact in a way that gives it a 

 value beyond the simple information. But in this book 

 he has entered upon his long course of recording minutely 

 what his microscopic glance perceived, and clearly it is 

 true ; yet too often not vivid enough for literature nor 

 exact enough for science, as, for example, here : 



' In January that ice that freezes in the ditches appears 

 of a dark colour, because it lies without intervening water 

 on the dead brown leaves. Their tint shows through the 

 translucent crystal, but near the edge of the ice three 

 white lines run round. If by any chance the ice gets 

 broken or upturned, these white bands are seen to be 

 caused by flanges projecting from the under-surface, 

 almost like stands. They are sometimes connected in 

 such a way that the parallel flanges appear like the letter 

 " h " with the two down-strokes prolonged.'! 



And this, again, is an extract from a notebook, and 

 in this state is of no value at all : 



* The Amateur Poacher. f Ibid. 



